She met his stare head-on. "Yes."
Her admission allowed the rest to fall into order. The massive sums of money his father had routinely spent in Milan had been for Rachel's care. The small fortune Gemma had suddenly acquired had been her reward for her life-giving marrow.
"You were well paid," he said.
"I didn't ask for the money or want it."
"Yet you took it anyway."
"Cesare insisted," she said.
"Did he also insist that you become his personal secretary?"
She bit her lip, and that slight hesitation was blood to a shark. She was still hiding something from him. But what?
"I needed a job," she said.
"And he needed a confidant as well as a secretary to manage his secret and his business."
"Yes. He never meant to hurt his family," she said.
He nodded, believing that as well. His father had found himself in a precarious position with a sick, illegitimate child and a jealous wife who would never have accepted Rachel.
"Are you related to Rachel?"
She shook her head and he knew before she voiced the denial that she was telling the truth. "No. Why do you ask?"
"I am trying to determine why a young woman would give so much to a stranger, even for free, as you claim."
She looked away, clearly uncomfortable again. "It was the right thing to do."
"Come now. You should know by now that you can trust me with your secret." He stroked her cheek with a finger and had the satisfaction of watching color bloom in its wake. "Why were you even tested, bella?"
She shrugged, but the movement screamed of soul-deep tension. "I was on the donor list as a possible match."
"Why were you on the list?"
She gave a sharp shake of her head as if a part of her was reluctant to share the truth. "I wanted to be of help. I wanted to save a life."
"There's more to it than that. Tell me."
She tried to pull away from him but he closed in on her, maintaining his hold and edging her further into distress. He had her trapped and they both knew it.
"Why, Gemma? Why did you put your name on a bone marrow registry?"
She trembled, quaking silently and uncontrollably. But it was her eyes filling with moisture that made his gut clench. He'd never been moved by a woman's tears before, but he was now and that scared the hell out of him.
"Because I'd promised myself that I'd not hesitate to save a life if I ever had the chance to do so again," she said.
Again? "What happened before that drove you to do this?"
She swallowed hard, her eyes so glassy with moisture he was sure she could see nothing but the past that tormented her. For once his impatience crumbled around him. Seeing her in such raw pain lashed his soul and he drew her into his arms, offering her comfort and taking the same from her nearness.
"It's all right," he said, wiping away the silent tears that streamed down her face and feeling closer to her now than he had when they'd made love.
She sniffled loudly and tried to compose herself. "My mother had leukemia and needed a bone marrow transplant," she said at last. "Nobody in the family was a match. Nobody but me."
"You donated your marrow to save your mother?"
"No. I was confused and afraid." She bit her lower lip so hard he feared she'd draw blood. "I was too young to understand it all. Mamma insisted I be spared the pain of it."
"She was protecting you."
Again the abrupt shake of her head. "Perhaps that was part of it. But I was terrified of the procedure, selfish and fearful that giving part of me would somehow make me more vulnerable to the disease that was killing Mamma. I put my feelings above her life. I believed that in all of Italy they'd find another donor." She swallowed hard. "But they didn't."
He didn't know what to say to that, so he simply pulled her into his arms. "How old were you?"
"Twelve." She lifted her eyes to his then and his gut clenched from the guilt she'd heaped on herself. "I could have saved her life if I'd acted sooner, if I'd realized how desperately she needed me. By the time I agreed to be a donor, she was too weak for the surgery. She died the next day."
"Bella." Stefano cradled her close and dropped kisses on her closed eyes that were still damp with tears. "You must let the past go."
And wouldn't he be wise to take his own advice as well? He couldn't continue to think every woman was a gold-digger, that they were out for money and position.
He couldn't continue to isolate himself from his family, especially now with a gravely ill father and a sister who'd need care. No, a family.
As if reading his thoughts, she said, "Please think about moving Rachel to Viareggio."
The door opened and Rachel bounded into the room, putting an end to that conversation. "May we go for ices now?"
"That's a fabulous idea," Gemma said, her voice still holding a tremor of sadness. "Stefano? Will you join us?"
"I wouldn't dream of letting two lovely ladies leave without me," he said, gaining a squeal from his sister and a deepening blush from Gemma.
Her affection toward his sister touched something deep inside him. Something that had lain hidden for years.
She was a good woman. She'd make a fine mother. A fabulous wife. But was he ready for such a commitment? Or was he seeing her as the one who'd make his life easier, and his nights far more interesting?
He wished to hell he knew, for Gemma deserved more than what his money could offer her. She deserved his love.
Gemma had expected Stefano to be stiff and withdrawn around Rachel, but he treated her as if he'd known her all his life. As if she was family that he cared about.
In fact, it had been the most delightful day that she'd spent in his company, with the exception of baring her own soul. But even then he'd held her with such tenderness that she'd finally done as he'd suggested and let go of some of the guilt that had gripped her for so long.
Now the question remained what would the future hold for all of them. Gemma expected Stefano would be eager to return to Viareggio, but after seeing Rachel returned to her nanny at the modest house in Milan, he seemed in no hurry to leave.
"I am ravenous," he said as he escorted Gemma into an upscale restaurant. "You must be as well."
"Maybe a little hungry."
He smiled, a flash of teeth made more white against his tanned olive skin. The glint in his dark, magnetic eyes hinted he was hungry for more than food, but it was the slow curl of his fingers against the small of her back that had her own desire blossoming.
She swallowed hard and tried to concentrate on their surroundings, but a glance at the intimate tables and couples with eyes for each other only brought images of her and Stefano doing the same. How easy it would be to fall in love with him. Or had she already done that?
The waiter showed them to a table tucked in a corner that was made more private by the gorgeous specimens of potted ferns. He waited until Stefano had seated Gemma before rattling off an impressive wine list.
"The night calls for champagne," Stefano said, and Gemma wondered what had suddenly put him in such a celebratory mood.
"Would you like to hear the menu now?" the waiter asked, and at Stefano's nod, he listed the house specials.
All were marvelous dishes, but Gemma couldn't do justice to a meal, not the way her stomach was in knots over this emotional day followed by this new side of Stefano.
She hoped that meeting his sister had brought about the change in him. Would he give his sister's care more thought? Would he finally realize the importance of family and embrace it instead of shunning it?
Or was he simply of a mind to romance her tonight? Her body warmed at the thought, even though her mind rebelled. She had too much to consider. Too many worries.
"You are in a rare mood," Gemma said after the waiter took himself off.
Stefano shrugged off the comment as usual, and it occurred to her that he wasn't comfortable with praise. "I am always at peace once I've made a major decision."
"Does this means you have changed your mind regarding Rachel?" she asked.
"That is as it should be for now."
For now. She clung to those two words and hoped that he would concede soon. That he'd welcome Rachel into his life and his home.
"Then what is your major decision?"
"This business between you and me."
Her heart pounded too hard and too fast. He must mean he'd finalized the contract.
Thirty days of uninhibited sex for the title to the inn. An inn that was in serious need of repair. An inn that wasn't worth a fraction of the money Stefano had paid for it.
He poured them both champagne, his movements slow and sure. He'd taken his suit jacket off and rolled up the sleeves of his stark white shirt.